Worries To Carry Alone
by MyMagentaPeach
Summary: New York was supossed to bring happiness, and Blaine does not even know he is slipping into depression when it starts. Thankfully, Kurt has his own eyes to see, but that does not mean he can fix things. Can Burt help, who had suffered from depression himself after losing his wife all those years ago?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee.

**A/N:** I don't even know which corner of my psych this just crawled out off. But it did. Maybe because today I can finally let go again of pretending to be oh so strong. To get through study sessions and exams. I am finally catching a break, and apparently, and very reassuringly for me that means my mind is letting loose:) After all the trials of the last months of work I am still a writer at heart and mind and soul and really just all over. I can never be unhappy about that, ever.

* * *

**Worries To Carry Alone**

It is not like Blaine has never had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach before.

But this time feels different.

There are reasons instead of reason, it seems, and those have him worry. It is not a choice.

If he _had _a choice he would be happily dancing around the kitchen right now and bake cookies for Kurt. Because you can never bring enough happiness through baked goods to someone you love.

But that fear he cannot grasp is holding him down and won't let go. And there is not a thing in the world he can think of to do to make it go away, to make him not simply sink to the floor where he is standing right now, halfway between the kitchen and the door to the apartment, and still be there when however long later Kurt walks in.

"You won't believe the day I've ha...," Kurt sing songs, breaking off as soon as he spots Blaine just crumbled in on himself on the floor.

Blaine hears the thud of bags and maybe a jacket hitting the floor, an umbrella in the mix, definitely, and then he feels the heat of a body beside him, a hand warm on his cheek's skin, and a voice in his ear, soft but shaky, "What's wrong?"

Blaine huffs his next breath out in a sharp, frustrated way that Kurt knows, from his own dad, ... but Blaine does not.

"Hard time breathing?" Kurt asks. He had seen his dad fall into depression after his mom had died, had only fully registered that he knows the signs the second time around when Burt had almost broken it off with Carole, after Finn and the _faggy_-lamp incident, almost lost her too, and slipped for several days into a state close to this but in the end nowhere near.

Finding Blaine drifting in his own skin, it is no reassuring thought.

"Blaine? Sweety?"

Another huff, much less sharp.

"Please say something ... ."

"I don't know what's going on with me," he says it because it is the only thing he can feel right now, those worries weighing that hollowness inside him down, him with it. And there are no words for that.

Kurt spends the whole night holding Blaine ... in silence. Hoping there will be words tomorrow, maybe even answers.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Yes, you got to me guys. I had not expected people to want more, especially since I just really wrote this totally selfishly for myself, but you did, so here it is.

* * *

**Worries To Carry Alone**: Chapter 2

The next days, Blaine unravels inside.

Kurt can feel it with every hug, the man in his arms shaking in his skin, and trying to press it down, whatever it is that is rising in him.

"What's wrong with you?" it is a desperately angry hissing sound that Kurt can hear Blaine only weakly utter to himself that night as they lie in bed, every sound muffled by a pillow Blaine's face is resting on heavily, dead weight.

That is how Blaine feels. A dead weight in Kurt's arms, a dead weight in Kurt's life. 'Useless!'

Kurt has been lying more hours awake than asleep with Blaine these past nights.

Kurt always, ALWAYS the big spoon.

They are lying like this tonight too. And because Kurt has found out the past days that words are counterproductive with Blaine right now, have Blaine, clearly at a loss for words himself, feel even more isolated, Kurt strengthens his hold around Blaine in response to pretty much anything, strengthens it tonight to answer the muffled sounds.

The waiting that comes after is to Kurt the least bearable part.

When Blaine, eventually, quietly turns in his arms Blaine's eyes are wide and '... changed,' his lips are trembling, seconds later his cheeks are wet, and then ... Blaine is sobbing.

Any other day Kurt would hate to see his boyfriend like this, any, well, most other days tears being a sign of distress.

They are now too, Blaine is in pain.

Kurt knows though, Blaine has been in pain ALL this time – numbness, hollowness you cannot communicate a pain all of its own, deeper, darker, ... out of reach, unremovable.

Pain.

Those tears mean more though. They are a sign that Blaine is feeling _something _again.

Kurt does not push, does not pull.

There is no drying these tears tonight, "I love you," the words are warm and the hand coming to cup Blaine's cheek is soft. "I love you."

Kurt lies awake until the early morning hours, not once letting go of the man in his arms. His hold only easing once he slips into an all-consuming sleep of exhaustion.

Blaine is up before Kurt the next morning, busying himself with breakfast.

Still, Kurt takes off the day, and then another, from work and school, makes Blaine do the same.

And then he tries to make Blaine smile, tries to make him feel ... happy. With long walks and serenading him on the open street, with hot chocolate and kisses, with flowers and cheesecake.

With love.

They have made a promise to each other after all. To not back down again, from their problems, challenges, confusions – to not push each other away ... nor let go.

And it is hard to know when what is needed. Because in the end all they have to go on are their instincts, the things they have learned from past triumphs, the things they have learned from past mistakes, the things they have learned from loving each other.

Making changes, adapting to a new situation, a new challenge, that is not the hardest part, people say it is ... but that is not really true. The big problem are not the times you are busy with something new, the challenge are the times that lie in between, the times of waiting, of waiting for the changes to take effect, to make one feel ... new.

And so Kurt knows, whatever it is Blaine needs to find a way to do, to change, to find, he needs to be there for it, help Blaine through the moments when doubt creeps inside his mind, clouds everything, takes away too much.

Waiting. It is the hardest thing Kurt has ever learned to do well. To not get frustrated and lash out and widen the rift between himself and whoever he is waiting for.

Waiting for his mom to get better.

Waiting for his dad to smile again.

Waiting for someone who would want to touch him, hold his hand, hold all of him.

And then there is the nagging doubt that he is not doing enough at all. That holding Blaine and loving him and being here, and walks, and ice cream and singing are not the right thing to do. Not at all.

Kurt is not naive.

He knows.

He knows there is no pill or vaccine, one for all, like with the flu or a headache. Depression is tricky and can come and leave in the span of minutes, moments, seconds. Can outstay a person's everything. Destroy ... everything.

And so in the days to come, turning into weeks, he watches, and waits and takes care to take care of himself too, so Blaine will have no reason to blame himself for anything that is happening right now once they really talk about it all, and Kurt has still his hope that they will.

And then, two and a half weeks later, Kurt having watched Blaine try and pretend he is better, he is "... okay Kurt, I'm okay, I was just under the weather," Kurt calls his dad.

* * *

A/N: Now you got me to get myself curious about what Burt would do. Oh well, I guess with the GIANT hiatus ahead of us I will have the time to write this too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Worries To Carry Alone: **Chapter 3

When it had first happened Burt had not known, could not possibly have known what Finn's comments would lead to.

But ..., when hours after Burt had asked Carole and Finn to leave Kurt had still remained locked away in his room Burt had gone to investigate.

He had found Kurt, after not getting any answer to his knocking carefully tiptoeing into the room, curled up asleep under the blankets that had been draped over the old couch before, to match the new colour scheme.

He had found something else too, the bright colour of the one blanket clutched balled up in Kurt's arms smudged dark.

It had taken Burt's thoughts a moment to gather and for him to realize _'...tears.' _

Before he had even had time to think about stopping himself, Burt had gently moved his left hand to rest on Kurt's upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

It had taken a while for Kurt to stir, "Dad? What's wrong?"

Burt had not spent a second thinking about his own dishevelled appearance, eyes red-rimmed, clothes array, but of course Kurt would notice, "I'm okay, Kurt. How 'bout you?"

"'ve been better," Kurt had murmured, sinking a little deeper back into the blankets, wrapped all around him.

"Why were you cryin' earlier?" Burt had asked with only a moment's hesitation.

"Carole makes you happy, I don't want you to ..."

Burt had cut Kurt off with a soft press of lips to Kurt's forehead.

Kurt had been stunned into silence. The last time Burt had done this, Kurt had remembered then, ... _'I was nine.'_ "Dad?"

"Kurt," Burt had said with as serious an expression on his face as Kurt had ever seen it.

"Yeah?" Kurt's voice had been shaking with the simple sound.

"Remember our favourite song?" Kurt had nodded, so Burt had gone on, "You ARE the sunshine of my life. I mean that. I do."

Kurt had swallowed hard.

"Don't you ever forget that," Burt had added, placing another kiss to Kurt's sleep tousled hair this time.

Kurt had sat up then, as best he had been able to, still wrapped up in fabrics, and only a moment later Burt had had both his arms full of Kurt ... and the blankets. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you more, Kurt."

"Love you most."

They to this day have four dozen silly little rituals like that that are, neither silly, nor little to either of them.

When Burt had slipped, only days later, not having spoken to Carole at all since that day, into an isolating state of sadness it had hit Kurt with the suddenness of lightning, he had seen his dad like this before. Then he had not known what to call it, but he had felt it none the less, so strongly that the feeling had years later still been imprinted in his body, years later though, he suddenly had found himself with just the word, the thought, recognition, ... 'Depression.'

It had been a word still relatively new to his vocabulary, only about eleven months before had they read a story in his favourite class, English, because of Miss Nilsen rather than the daily subject matters, a short story about a girl living in a house full of ghosts, and only in the end, after Miss Nilsen had talked with them about it had Kurt understood 'They are not ghosts at all, her sister, her mom, her ...,' "Dad."

"Mmh?"

"Are you depressed?"

"Am I ... . How ...?" Burt had looked up, all those years ago now, expression not unlike Blaine's on the first day Kurt had found him on their apartment's floor, except for the frown full of confusion, but alike in his whole expression being tired, and pale in a way that is usual for Kurt, but not his father, nor Blaine.

Kurt had held out one of Miss Pillsbury's pamphlets. "So everything is dark? Let's find the light switch together," Burt had read out aloud, still frowning, probably more than before. Burt had been about to say something else ...

... when Kurt had cut him off, "I'm scared, Dad."

It is this pamphlet, from all those years ago that Burt is clutching now tightly, sitting in his seat a moment longer, passengers all around him already grabbing wildly for their carry-on luggage, before he too steps into the rapidly emptying aisle, pamphlet still firmly grasped in his left hand.

Coming to New York was always meant to be a happy occasion, over and over. This time Burt finds himself as scared as Kurt had been all those years ago holding out this pamphlet for his dad to take.

He could have just pushed it away, taken and torn and thrown it away.

And '... so could Blaine.'


	4. Chapter 4

**Worries To Carry Alone**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Kurt has not told his dad, has not told him for fear of ... what he himself is not sure.

But when Burt steps through the door of Kurt and Blaine's home in New York he knows by the look on his son's face alone that more is wrong with today than had been wrong when the two of them had last spoken two days ago.

"Hey, Kiddo," Burt says letting his luggage drop to the floor and going right in for the hug.

"Dad." It sounds small.

"Talk to me," Burt hums quietly as his son clings on to him tightly. This time around Burt does not miss any of the tears, the sniffling, cannot miss the harsh sob. So Burt closes the door, one arm still tightly holding on to Kurt's shoulders, keeping him close, then walks them over to the small sofa.

Kurt is whispering from the start and Burt only gets why by about the third sentence, "I'm so, SO unbelievably glad you are here. I'm not su..., I don't know what to do anymore. He had been up to going about his daily life the past weeks, had insisted still he was fine again. I mean I KNEW he wasn't, but yesterday I got up, took a long shower, and I was just about to say goodbye and leave for class when I found him curled up on himself sobbing under the bedcovers. He has barely moved from there since."

"Do you think he'd be up to us talking?"

"I'm not sure how much more he'll open up with you there ...," Kurt starts.

But his dad interrupts him, "Him and me ... talking. I hadn't meant for you to be there." Burt almost wishes he had kept his mouth shut or found a different way to say this when he watches his son's eyes go wide and flood with water in no time at all.

"You think I'm bad for him?" Kurt's voice breaks with the wetness in it.

"Oh, Kurt, no. No. That isn't at all it." Burt is hugging Kurt fiercely once more when he adds, "I was just wondrin' if he'd open up to me alone in just a little different way that might help him see stuff from a new perspective."

Kurt nods into his dad's shoulder. "You're welcome to try whatever you can think off. I just want him to feel better again. I don't know how to talk to him about it anymore. I don't want him to hate me. I don't want him to think I'm trying to control him."

Burt pressing a kiss to Kurt's hair hums "I get it."

"Good."

"Just for what it's worth, you were amazing with me back when I needed help. I'm sure you've been nothing but amazing with Blaine too."

"Thanks, Dad."

When Burt lets go four minutes later and makes his way to knock on the bedroom door Kurt, hugging a pillow to his chest, is looking the slightest bit calmer.

Burt takes a shaky breath and raises his hand to the wooden barrier standing between him and the boy still curled up tight under the covers he had first drawn over himself, blacking out the world to as many of his senses as possible almost thirty-two hours ago now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Worries To Carry Alone**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

There is no answer, so heavy heartedly Burt, with a glace back at Kurt, pushes the door open anyway.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the, at this hour, artificial dark of the drawn blinds. When they do, Burt closing the door behind himself, he sees Blaine just lying there, staring blankly ahead at the cream coloured, blank bedroom wall.

He gingerly sits down on the mattress' corner, watching Blaine carefully as he does so. "Hey, Kid."

For a moment that might have felt much longer to Burt than it actually was there is no reply, ... then "Hey." A rough whisper, small. As small as Blaine still curled up on himself looks to Burt.

"Is it okay if we talk a little?"

"What about?"

"Anything you want to," Burt is quick, maybe too quick to answer.

"Don't really feel like talking."

"Is it okay then if I talk to you for a bit?"

Blaine's nod is barely perceptible to the eye, but there.

Burt scratches his head for a second before he finds the words he hopes are right, words he has practiced inside his head all of his flight, not being able to say them to Blaine already slowly driving him closer and closer to crazy all the while. So it is a real relief being allowed to speak them, finally.

But Burt also knows he has to take his time or they will come out all jumbled and wrong sounding. He still figures though why not start with the obvious, that hopefully to Blaine disarming fact that Burt had grown not to be ashamed of over many years.

"So ..., I used to be depressed, badly."

And as Burt had hoped, with a sudden shift, Blaine's eyes are on him.

"After Kurt's mom had died. I didn't know for a long time that that's what it was. And I pretended for far too long to be okay, alright, just fine. Kurt helped me understand ...," Burt sinks his head, shakes it at himself, "... I so wasn't. He sure as fuck wasn't. But he still had the sense about him to see ... me. He has always been one hell of a kid. One hell of a son."

Blaine just keeps lying there, limbs a little less tightly strung, eyes awake with concentration.

"Kurt gave me this," Burt continues, fumbling for the old pamphlet, looking it too, folded so many times over in places it had not meant to be (mostly in the last couple days, hours) the colouring has faded all over, but the black writing still stands out as boldly as it had when Burt had first layed eyes on it.

Blaine only mouths the words silently, then looks up at Burt, "What are the symptoms?"

"Well," Burt takes a deep breath, "they are somewhat different for everyone."

If Blaine did not feel the way he does - rotten, numb, hollow - a filter would be firmly in place, keeping him from asking this next question, "What were your symptoms?"

As Burt begins to speak he can see Blaine, blanket still tightly clutched around himself, moving to sit up, tears running from his eyes faster and faster, "I couldn't feel shit I was so beside myself. I would sit there on the living room couch and hours would just race by without me being able to lift a single finger. I just couldn't make myself. And then some days I'd be okay to just do what was asked of me, and then another I'd been unable to stop bawling my eyes out. I wanted to be the best dad to Kurt, and I couldn't and I didn't know why. But I hated myself for it when my head was half clear again, SO much." Burt's own eyes are wet when he stops, looks up from the floor again where his gaze had sunk with those last words.

"I'm hurting him," Blaine whimpers, "I know I am. I don't want to. I don't want to, Burt."

"Can I hug you?" Burt asks, feeling like today he has to ask.

"Please," Blaine sobs, head falling into the nodding motion repeated over and over as sobs keep shooting through Blaine's small looking frame.

The body in his arms is cold to the touch, the much needed warmth drained from it by a sickness, a cold that has nothing to do with a fever, a runny nose, sore throat, or anything that time on its own could ever fix as simply.

"What do I do now?" Blaine asks voice shaking.

"You don't push it away. You embrace that hollowness, that numbness so bloody fucking hard that it turns into a thing way better than a diamond."

"What's that?"

"More love. A new love maybe, or an old one you had almost forgotten ever was yours to begin with."

"For you it was ...?" Blaine asks, feeling like he can now.

"Vintage cars first, putting that negative energy that was eating me alive into bringing something old back to live. Then ... ."

"Then?"

Burt answers with a smile, "Then it was Carole, too. Is. Loving her."

Blaine breaks into new sobs.

"What's wrong?"

"I love Kurt. I do!"

Burt knows then, "No, Blaine, you are missing the point. I know you do. Kurt knows you do. But no matter how much you love someone they alone and loving them, them loving you can't be enough throughout all your life. It will be some days. It can't always though. Every person has their own life to live still, and you filling yours with more to love will only make that one love that you consider to be the most important one stronger. So much stronger."

"But I'm supposed to make him happy."

"Making yourself happy will make him happier too. Always. You two share so much to love already. He will love you with those fears and anxieties exposed just as much. I know they are a fucked up mess in your own head still, and I'm guessing your way of untangling them won't have to do with cars. Why do you think Kurt writes those musicals all the time that he gives silly sounding topics and titles? Has he given you those songtexts to read? The topics might be silly, and I personally don't get half of the references he makes - I mean who the hell is that Pippa woman? - but the emotions in them ... ."

And then Burt can see what he can bet Kurt has been missing for a long while, a small smile flitting across Blaine's lips as he searches out Burt's gaze, "... brilliantly, stunningly overwhelming?"

"You said it, Kid." Burt's words making Blaine smile a real smile then, but it falls again fast.

"You don't think there is something seriously wrong with me?"

"Needing something in your life doesn't make you weak or anything wrong about you. Be it a way to express yourself, a jumpstart through some chemicals that are not balanced out in your body, what people generally call medication, or maybe ... maybe just a time out from your everyday to figure the shit that this life can bring or be out. It's all okay. And yes, opening yourself up to all those possibilities and the people involved, loved ones, friends, strangers is _scary as fuck_. I'm here, Kurt is here to let you know you don't have to do that alone. And that it is okay too to want to do it alone sometimes, and to have shit days."

Blaine actually snorts at those words when he pulls himself up and into another brief but tight hug with Burt before shakily fully getting to his unsteady legs, in too much of a state of disuse these past days.

Blaine quietly makes his way to the living room couch, frame shaking.

Burt hears the squeak of surprise Kurt lets out as Blaine throws his arms around him from where he is standing behind the couch, Kurt not having moved from there till now, as he jumps up and sobbing a second later pulls Blaine into his arms.

"How are you here right now? What did dad say to you?" Kurt blubbers into Blaine's PJs.

Blaine holds on to Kurt tighter than Kurt has felt his embrace in weeks, unintentionally squeezing more tears out of Kurt Blaine replies, adoration in his voice, "He reminded me that ... . It's okay to not be okay. I promise you, Kurt, I'll try my best to do what I can with my rotten feelings, those stupid and not stupid worries that are asking of me to be carried alone."

"You don't know what to do with them yet," Kurt replies in understanding, mind quiet now, arms supporting Blaine strong.

"No," Blaine answers honestly.

Burt hears his son whisper urgently then, "That's okay." Hears Blaine whisper back shyly, "Are we okay?"

When all that is left to hear for Burt remains silence he gets up from the bed, and re-enters the living room, only to find the boys curled up on the couch around each other, both holding on tightly to each other, even in this sudden and deep sleep fuelled by weeks' old exhaustion, a storm ebbing out.

Burt gets a blanket for them to keep curled up under, and then sets to work in the kitchen on Kurt's famously delicious yet healthy vegetable soup.

Getting warmth to radiate from that curly-haired boy again will be more than a one man job, and for now Burt is satisfied with the fact that his application to work on the reconstruction and building of the brand new extension has not been denied, yet. This is one job he will happily be paid for in smiles.

Both Kurt's and Blaine's.


End file.
